


Cognatio multum potest

by AsmodeusXander



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: A LOT of violence, Angst, But there's gonna be some explicit things in the future, Incest, Like... very very slow burn maybe, M/M, Non dmc v complaint, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-16 13:13:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18094976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsmodeusXander/pseuds/AsmodeusXander
Summary: After what happened in Fortuna, Nero thought it was over. His life would return to "normal", even without the Order of the Sword, even if they had to repair all the broken things and learn to live without the lost ones. He can do it... He and Kyrie, right?Except there was not coming back, when, apparently, Miss Fortune doesn't have him in high regard, and Mr. Catastrophe always smiles coquettishly to him.Of course, Dante has some experience in all that.





	1. Premature dismissals

**Author's Note:**

> Well, hello there! 
> 
> You have no idea how nervous I am. It's probably been more than a couple of years since I posted something on the internet, and an eternity since I did it in English.
> 
> Anyway, this arose after several months of ... well, I do not know how to explain it. It was a kind of therapy. However, much of the concept was born while there was still not much to say about the DMC 5, so this is practically an Au that only considers the end of DMC 4.
> 
> I hope there are not many mistakes in this, and I accept any criticism that comes in a constructive way.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for giving it the opportunity!

Just a couple of months elapsed since the downfall of the Order of the Sword in Fortuna, leaving an expensive bill distributed between the destroyed homes and the lives lost at the hands of the demons that assaulted the streets. During the first weeks, the death toll did not stay fixed by much, constantly changing during the cleaning and reconstruction tasks. Things progressed with an overwhelming slowness, with the people despairing and still dismayed with what happened. Those disillusioned, could not look more to the statues and torn blazons of the Order that were seen throughout Fortuna, none of them wore more the hood of the cult. Those who had clung to the lie, to their faith, knelt in front of the crumbling altars, before the statues and figures of Sparda, put their hands together, closed their eyes, and in prayers found peace, refusing to attend to the voice of reason.

 

Thus, while some were praying, others rebuilt their lives and their homes. Nero, on the other hand, oversaw cleaning and dismantling the remains and secrets of the Order, of Agnus and the demonic weapons.

 

It was an arduous, slow and stifling task. After what happened, Nero had not returned to normal at all. His blood seemed to be in a constant state of boiling and acceleration within his veins, as if he could not discard the adrenaline of his system. He waited for nonexistent enemies in every corner, and anxiety ate at him every time he had to hide his right arm again under bandage strips.

 

Loitering what were recent battlefields for him was not helping Nero, who wanted to be able to turn away, turn his back and go back to being himself. But, irrationally, Nero felt responsible. He felt it was his duty to make amends, to prevent another tragedy. As a result, he spent his days and nights in the ruins of the cellars, library and Agnus's laboratory, rummaging through folders, drawers and drawers, behind paintings and even inside vases and statues. He read every file superficially and made sure that each contraption did not pose any threat. He made sure that Sactus and Agnus did not leave any kind of time bomb in the place.

 

Kyrie, who had always been closer to the people of the town, the loved one, was in charge of convincing everyone that the best thing was to stay away from the castle of the Order and from the regions where the demons were concentrated, to avoid the possible malignant spirits and demons that could still wander through there. Most believed that the proposal was prudent, although they still insisted that sooner or later they had to go and make sure there were no more corpses in the rubble. Giving a worthy burial and rest to the souls of the fallen was still a consensus between believers and non-believers.

 

Like that, Nero had the castle of Fortuna for him. Every so often he waited for Kyrie outside, finding calm and consolation in his company. Sometimes they walked together in the interior, in those areas that Nero had already cleaned and considered completely safe. They ate together, she talked about the people and their strength, the courage to continue after what happened, especially for those who could no longer pray to anyone. Besides that, as the shock passed, doubts began to arise about what really happened, about who was the man in the red raincoat, about the truth of the Savior and His Holiness, and between lines and looks, Nero could hear what Kyrie didn’t nor wanted to say: everyone began to ask and murmur about him and his intervention.

 

Kyrie was patient with the matter. She spoke more, when she knew that Nero was more in the mood to listen than to express himself. Not very often, Nero mentioned a couple of things he had found among the archives of the Order, since it was clear that the topic of the demons and what happened with Credo upset and erased Kyrie's sweet smile.

 

For now, the mutual company was enough. Enough so that Nero could continue with his self-imposed mission, enough for Kyrie to keep smiling when helping people. Even though between each word one uttered, there were silent litanies of doubt and discomfort.

 

… … …

 

Nero ended his work only a week later, after destroying everything that could be destroyed. Other objects of a cryptic nature, he decided it was better to protect them in a personal way, to prevent someone from finding them some kind of inappropriate use. Some of these gadgets reminded him of those he absorbed with his Devil Trigger during his campaign in search of Dante and the truth, and how they helped him do one thing or another. The Sephirotic Fruit or the Aegis Shield ... However, he did’t consider it proper to absorb them in the same way, to take risks, when several of them had short and bald descriptions among the archives.

 

Most were small pieces, so that almost all them could be accommodated in a wooden chest that Nero thought of hiding at home temporarily, while something else occurred to him. The idea of contacting Dante crossed his mind, but only then did he realize that he had not exchanged much more with the man than their names, insults and blows.

 

"Nero, is everything ready?" Kyrie questioned, entering the great hall, moving carefully between the concrete pieces and the huge chandelier that still surrounded the entrance Agnus' laboratory to the first ramp.

 

"Yes! Just ... Only a couple more things are missing! Wait there, okay? "Nero exclaimed from a distance, shouting to be heard from the lower levels, while Kyrie stopped in front of the chest containing the objects of investigation of Agnus, lifting her dress a bit to squat and watch the flashes metal and crystals inside, the spines and covers of some volumes and the strange iridescent content of a glass bottle.

 

"Are you sure you can take all this with you? Maybe ... we should bury them somewhere," Kyrie whispered, squinting to pursue a curious twinkle at the bottom of the chest, the light's reflection on _something_.

 

"Don’t worry, I examined everything, piece by piece. I don’t think there's anything to worry about, "Nero continued speaking loudly from inside, accompanied by the sound of things being moved and packed in bags and other smaller boxes.

 

"Oh ... well," Kyrie accepted Nero's word without hesitation, as she moved her head a little from side to side, searching again for the light in there. He finally found it and was able to focus closely on what appeared to be a stone the size of an eye, a sphere of brown, black and gold glitters, iridescent as an opal, wrapped in gold filigree that made it look like a small sun. The stone hung from an ostentatious, beautiful and expensive-looking necklace, which Kyrie was sure could cover her entire throat, make the sun hang very close to her neckline, very close to her heart.

 

Hesitant, but intrigued, Kyrie reached for the box. Carefully, she removed a couple of books, and some strange orbs, checking that there was no unusual sensation in contact with them. Finally, she got the necklace and pulled it by the choker, examining it.

 

"Nero?" The girl called back to the other, while admiring the details of the necklace in childish charm. "What is this?"

 

"What is what?" Nero finally advanced with an elongated suitcase slung over his shoulder toward the laboratory exit, connecting with the great hall. He was happy to finally end this exasperating punishment, he smiled to receive Kyrie, whom he would accompany back home for the first time in a long time. "Hey, you have no idea how long I waited to have dinner at home ... Kyrie?"

 

Nero stopped short at the end of the last stairs of the laboratory, tensing to feel the icy blow of a strange breeze coming from the great hall. The place had suddenly descended at least 15 degrees Celsius, and suddenly, a current of energy went through his right arm, igniting his devil bringer like a furious torch of blue flames.

 

"... Kyrie!" Nero did not allow himself more than two seconds to petrify, before throwing his load to the ground and running to the exit of the laboratory. Nero's heart descended to his stomach when he did not hear immediate response, and a brutal blizzard hit him in the face, flooding his nostrils with a sour and nauseating stench. "KYRIE!"

 

Kyrie was still there, however, wrapped in a funnel of pestilential air. She had an object cradled in her hands ... something familiar, one of the pieces Nero had examined before, a necklace with a black-gold cat's eye. However, the one who had remained inert in his fingers, reacted to Kyrie with a blinding glare, to which Nero had to squint.

 

"Kyrie!" Nero ran towards her but was thrown to the wall with great force by the whirlpool. He had to suck in a breath of air after it was expelled from his lungs with the brute impact against the granite wall, and the repulsive gas burned his nostrils and larynx, causing him to cough and violent arcades after he collapsed to the ground. "K-Ky ...!

 

The necklace exploded in the hands of Kyrie, who above all remained immovable, as absorbed, mesmerized. The smell, the light, the wind, seemed not to affect her. The glow expanded, and a crack of sharp edges appeared in space, opening a portal from which emanated a colossal and malign presence.

 

Two immense, muscular, scaly, yellowish-brown arms with pustules and claws were the first to peek through the fissure, rising at least a meter above Kyrie, followed by a head attached to the shoulders, no neck ... no, not a head, but a skull, a huge and fish-like skull, with small, sharp green teeth, without nostrils and two globose eyes, of unequal size, bright orange, without pupils. There were thorns crowning the entire back of the skull, and exhaling gas from the root of these. The rest of his body stayed inside the portal, while that thing approached Kyrie, releasing a strange sound, guttural and at the same time bubbly ... a laugh, or something like that.

 

"KYRIE!" Nero exclaimed with the barely breath he managed to recover, as he felt his eyes burn and his throat close.

 

Red Queen was on the other side of the room, leaning against one of the shattered pews. Nero cursed, and hurriedly pulled Blue Rose out of her holster, sitting up and covering her nose with a forearm, while with his cloudy eyes and a trembling hand he tried to point to the demon. But there was a huge risk that the huge wind shielding the pair would deflect the bullet and it could hurt Kyrie if he pressed the trigger, so the hunter ran back into the torrent, guarding his weapon and trying to break the barrier with his Devil Bringer ...

"A debt settled at last ..." the same unpleasant voice pronounced, sucking Kyrie's scent straight from Kyrie's body in a vulgar and unpleasant way. "Seven of seven."

 

The whirlwind imposed an enormous resistance, propelling Nero backwards, this time only managing to make him back away, without casting him against the walls.

 

The devil twisted his head in an unnatural way, as if he had turned the knob of a door, the mouth opened and extended until it disengaged from the rudimentary jaws, like those of a snake, several meters, and a kind of tubular tongue erupted from the interior, wrapped in disgusting conical protrusions and oozing slime, wrapped itself completely around Kyrie at a speed that surpassed the eyes, and drew her to his throat with the force of a whiplash.

 

"NO! No! Kyrie! Kyrie, wake up! Wake up, damn it!" Nero stabbed and rammed a couple of times more the swirl of air and gas with his spectral arm, in cries torn by the lack of air, hoarse and dizzy. Panic loomed over Nero in a matter of seconds, adrenaline pumping to his blood and his blood gushing to that point through his tear ducts and the sores from his throat.

 

_No, please no. I just recovered her. Please, I already lost her once. She’s all I have left ... She's all ..._

"KYRIEEEE!"

 

Nero's voice quenched, as the devil’s mouth closed, and then retreated through the crack, disappearing. The portal closed like a wound healing in the space, the wind began to fade, and the stink began to disperse.

 

Nero collapsed on the ground, the Devil Bringer's ghostly arm fading until it vanished, while through eyes soaked with blood and tears he watched as Kyrie was snatched away once more, unable to do anything while she extended her hand to him, completely out of his reach. Without being able to hold on to his consciousness anymore, and, as if that were not enough, a voice whispering in his ears ... the same voice of that time, uttering the harsh truth. Making sure he could not faint without making it clear.

_This is all your fault ..._

_You could not protect her._

_Weak ... so weak._

_Your fault._


	2. Go to the point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! So, I'm changing the summary. 
> 
> Why are summaries so hard? They're summaries! Darn it. 
> 
> Whatever, Dante comes in. I'm rewritting thing again and againg and againg to fix some rhythm issues. But here is this week's chapter!

The Devil May Cry had been very quiet lately, silent as a tomb, absent even from the musical din that usually escaped to the sidewalk and the surrounding buildings. Having had to decide between the electric light, the running water and the payment of some debts in his favorite restaurants, Dante had concluded that it was better to have the benefit of a shower and a pizza box than of heavy metal and a couple of tv shows

 

There had not been much movement after the Fortuna disaster. Trish and Lady had taken all the work that Dante had rejected after what happened, to eliminate the remaining demons that had escaped from the island city, while Dante was going through a period of digestion and assimilation of everything he discovered there.

 

Now there wasn’t much to do, and Morrison hadn’t knocked on the door in several weeks. Patty's vacation in high school was over, so she was not seen hanging around frequently. Dante didn’t miss Patty’s picturesque stories, who in recent times had acquired an exasperating obsession with reality shows; he missed, however, the smell of disinfectant and the space on the sofa that shouldn’t be shared with empty pizza boxes, soda and beer cans, and magazines.

 

"Cheesecakes, they never disappoint," Dante whispered changing the magazine’s page, before the sharp knock on the door diverted his attention from the paper. Casual visits were rare, and most people who were mildly welcome to receive never knocked on the door. Morrison, Trish, Lady and Patty came and went as if it were their own house, which meant that was not the case.

 

The blows continued insistent and brute for several more seconds and without recess, to which Dante finally gave up, leaving the magazine aside and sitting up.

 

"Hey, hey! What’s your problem? I've already heard! Jeez…" Dante exclaimed toward the entrance, striding forward and yanking open. A dead weight fell on Dante, who lost all the details in a single blink, to then find a demonic arm more than clinging to his throat with enough force to make speech difficult, while the rest of the body it belonged was attached against him, trembling and dejected, with his forehead on the eldest's shoulder. "… Kid? Hey ... It's also a pleasure to see you again, but ... "

 

"Help me…"

 

Nero's voice was weak and husky, barely audible to Dante despite the closeness. With almost no effort, he took the boy by the shoulders and pulled him off, pushing him away enough to see his face.

Nero staggered back a step, looking at Dante with aplomb, despite his deplorable state. It was evident from his appearance and his smell, in addition to the greasy luster of his hair, that Nero had not taken a shower in several days. There was a lot of dust and moisture in some parts of his clothes ... Dante didn’t notice any kind of luggage behind Nero, only Red Queen tight on his back. It was strange, considering that it was at least 24 hours on the way from there to Fortuna, with the ferry not doing more than a couple of trips a day and the train taking its time largely along the route.

 

Also... how had the boy found his business? Dante didn’t remember giving more details than the name and maybe one or two clues that it was near the coast.

 

"Please help me. Money, how much do you need? Or anything else, I'll get it, just... help me,” the tone, in spite of its affectation, was firm, incapable of losing the power of the character inherent in the boy.

  


Dante raised an eyebrow, raising his hands to his hips, in mute consideration.

 

Since leaving Fortuna, the kid had been a recurring thought assaulting Dante's mind. For... multiple reasons, among which was the intrigue of his welfare after what happened. Seeing it as it was, it touched a fiber inside Dante, igniting a feeling of guilt, for not having gone to check on how things were in Fortuna before, despite having had the time. Dante had convinced himself that the best way to keep Nero safe was to step aside.

 

Nevertheless, Dante remembered having checked a second time all of Fortuna, making sure to leave things in order before departing. There were no open portals, not even fissures to the other world. Nero had said he could take care of the few remaining vermin and... what had happened then, for the boy to look so bad?

 

"You know what, kid? We better go in there. I think you could use a beer... and a shower. You  _definitely_  could use a shower..." Dante took Nero by the shoulder and carried him inside, without offering much resistance, taking a last look on both sides of the sidewalk before closing behind them.

 

...

  


"That necklace, do you bring it with you?" Dante questioned, picking up the last can of beer Nero had sipped in small gulps and replacing it with another, sitting on the coffee table in front of him.

 

"No. It exploded. But there was something on the floor, a piece of parchment almost burnt, but there was still legible text on it. I could not understand anything, the language was not familiar at all, except for a name, or a signature at the end. Robert  Fa... reri, Ferrari, or Ferri, or something like that, I'm not sure. I can’t remember right now. I tried to pick it up, but the damn thing crumbled in my fingers."

 

Dante nodded slowly, crossed his arms, looking at Nero in front of him, who even after a bath and a drink didn’t look better, no less exhausted or decayed. He was slightly stooped but looked as if at any moment he might end up collapsing. There was hardly any will in his grip on the beer can, his hands trembled slightly.

 

It was no wonder, Dante supposed. The boy had overcome his way back from hell. His city had been destroyed, he had lost a member of his family -Credo? Or something like that- and before he could collect the rubble of what was left of his life, another part of it was plucked without mercy. Another loss.

 

Dante knew a thing or two of losses ...

 

However, the situation was much more complicated than expected. With the mere physical description of the devil it would be very difficult to find it. It had left no tangible traces, and on the other hand... on the other hand, even if they could find the demon, Dante didn’t think there was much hope for the girl.

 

It was painful, raw and without doubt, he would understand if Nero was in denial. But a demon rarely kept its victims alive, when this was the best that could be expected. Dante had seen with his own eyes, on more than one occasion, what these beings were capable of doing to a human, to a loved one. How could they twist their souls and distort their bodies.

 

"Dante..."

 

Dante came out of his reverie, going back to Nero, who now faced him with a stern and resentful gesture.

 

"I know exactly what you're thinking, and I don’t care. You understand? I'm not stupid," Nero hissed, pressing his lips before speaking again, looking back at the beer can in his hands. "She... she could already be dead. It's most likely, right? But I cannot do nothing. I can’t let his body and soul stay there, in some fucking part of hell, Dante. I must do something. I must try. Save her, at least avenge her, damn it!"

 

Dante narrowed his eyes and leaned back, dodging only part of the splashes of beer that shot out everywhere when Nero crushed his newly opened beer can with the Devil Bringer.

 

They both remained silent for several seconds, during which Nero's tremors worsened and then subsided again. In a desperate move, he threw the can at the other garbage accumulated at the foot of the couch, and put both hands to his head, entangling his fingers in his hair.

 

"Hey... it's okay," Dante whispered, silencing his impression. His thoughts about revenge, what his insides tried to say about it. "I'll help you, boy. It's just... I do not know how we should go ahead. Where to look. Let me think of something."

 

Nero looked up, facing Dante, who raised both hands in a placating gesture.

 

"I’m serious. I need... you know, plan. You should rest or try to. You can’t do anything right now. You'll think better after a good nap," Dante said, smiling. He stood up, and then stopped. "Ah yeah sure. There's an alcove up there. I rarely use it, I'll try ... umh, you know, try to clean up here," Dante grimaced, as if he had tasted a bitter drink. Nero huffed softly, sat up and looked at himself again.

 

The beer had spilled almost completely on the pants and the threadbare shirt that Dante had just lent him. It was embarrassing, but... He was soaked. He was a real disaster, right?

 

"... Yes, I don’t know what else I can lend you. Let's fix that later, take whatever you find in the closet, okay? "

 

"... Okay."

 

... ...

 

Nero could not sleep immediately. In fact, he didn’t believe he could do it at all, were it not for the cash -surprisingly- effect of the alcohol he had consumed. The first hours were the most difficult. Dante's bed was stiff and uncomfortable, and it was just very strange to be there.

 

On the other hand, it didn’t matter if he was conscious or not, the nightmares chased Nero's mind. He can’t help but relive the moment when he had seen Kyrie being swallowed by that demon, wondering again and again what he could have done to change what happened.

 

_More power…_

 

Maybe if he had been stronger, or if he had been more cautious to begin with. The guilt became increasingly dense, like a rarefied air that made breathing difficult.

 

Nero spent the night in periods of sleep and wakefulness, swaying from one to the other between nightmares and obsessive thoughts. By the time it was morning, Nero could not tolerate a moment more lying down, sat up and went to look for Dante on the ground floor. He felt a little better, slightly more alert. So, he did not believe that his efforts had been completely in vain.

 

Given the time, he was not surprised to find the older man asleep on the couch with a volume of Gayety covering his face, while the garbage began to form piles around him.

 

"... Your definition of cleaning is to run the garbage from one place to another, then," Nero murmured, glancing around the site. Despite the first morning stars, the place remained considerably dark, but as he had already verified, there was no electric light to remedy it.

 

There was not much to do, and Nero supposed it was... inconsiderate to wake up Dante. So as the place was illuminated by the light coming through the windows, Nero tried to distract himself with mundane domestic chores, starting in the bedroom he had occupied, and moving through the place, avoiding the hall where Dante rested.

 

The task served a double purpose, while Nero had the opportunity to explore the home of Dante, without the need to excessively invade his privacy.

 

There was not much that could tell a specific story of the demon hunter or his past. Not in sight, at least, and Nero avoided at all costs to open drawers or check the many boxes located throughout the site.

 

The place didn’t even have a kitchen, there was only the refrigerator that was in the corner of the studio, right next to the sofa. The only bathroom was narrow, and the shower was not even divided by a curtain. Only one of the sink keys was useful. Undoubtedly the studio had much more personality than the rest of the house, with huge speakers, the music box, weapons and remnants of demons on the walls. Even there, on the desk, he had found what appeared to be the only photograph in the whole place, that of a beautiful blond woman, familiar but not quite.

 

An ex-girlfriend? Family?

 

"What are you doing?" Dante's voice behind him took Nero by surprise, who was busy tying garbage bags along the entrance to the site, replete with the remains of boxes, beer cans and chip bags.

 

"I try to turn this landfill into a moderately habitable place," Nero murmured, still turning his back on Dante. Much of his despair had been attenuated, at least externally, and now it was shameful to remember his state the previous afternoon.

  


"I suppose... do you plan to stay here while we fix all this?" Dante asked, and Nero tensed, understanding at last.

 

How had he been so stupid? He had offered the place to take a nap, which did not mean that he was going to lodge him during the odyssey. Nero had assumed it, and he was there, like an idiot, trying to become familiar with the place.

 

"Not necessarily, I can search for something around here," Nero responded defensively, moving away from the bags, shaking his hands and turning to see Dante. Maybe it was not too late to save himself from ridicule.

 

"Mmm... You do not seem to have the budget, maybe it's better if you stay here," Dante shrugged, just before raising his arms, doing a series of stretches that made several bones creak inside their insertion points. "As I told you, I rarely use the bedroom. And I’m a lovely roommate. Your decision, kid. "

 

"Lovely, yeah, I bet,” Nero could not help but reply, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. "But ... I guess, it's better than nothing."

 

"Hey, that's all I can offer you. As well as, all I can offer you for breakfast, are some pancakes at Poppy's," Dante offered with a smile, pointing with a flourish at the door. Nero remained motionless, squinting one eye. Dante repeated the movement.

 

Nero didn´t have appetite. He had not had it since everything happened. Every time he tried to ingest something, he could whiff again that... that smell, foul and repulsive, the same one that had burned his throat while screaming Kyrie's name.

 

"Oh, come on. It does not seem like you've eaten anything in days. You will not be useful to me in this state. Also, you should appreciate the detail much more. I do not remember when it was the last time I bought someone's food."

 

"Oh, what an honor."

 

Dante took advantage of his brief discussion to check his wallet, and once it was done, he took Nero by the shoulder and dragged him along.

 

"He-Hey! No, wait..." Nero resisted, just enough to reach his coat from the rack, before being pushed outside.

 

... ... ...

 

Nero had not touched his pancakes, although he was already on his second cup of coffee. Silence weighed on Dante's shoulders like the burden of Atlas, and it was he who ended up starting the conversation, just to get the kid out of the prison of his thoughts.

 

"I was thinking... Did the Stutterer have anything in his notes about the necklace?" Dante questioned, as he took the pot with maple sauce and squeezed it on his second order of hot cakes.

 

"No. I mean, he had it registered in a kind of inventory. But it seemed that not even he knew where the object came from, he said something about a booty. Tch... the thing is, I destroyed a lot of the files after reading them, if they did not contain anything that I considered important," Nero replied, contrite.

 

"It's fine, it's fine. Well, again. There's not much to begin with, so I thought... digging into books is not my thing, but there's a small chance that we'll find something in the archives of the Order, in those that talk about known devils or legends. Also, that name you read on the parchment, if you could remember, could be another starting point. You'll have to take care of that. It would be better if we could bring everything you need here from Fortuna..." Dante started, pausing to take a bite. Nero's gaze was on him, immovable, and continued. "On the other hand, I'm going to make a couple of calls... I don’t know how big hell is, but on a couple of occasions I've run into demons who knew each other. Perhaps our best option is to interrogate as many demons as possible. If your demon has the remotest resemblance to a reputation, we could find something. It's not the best of ideas, but it's the only thing I have right now. "

 

Dante expected a reply after that, but Nero did not utter a word. He was still sprawled in his seat, hiding his Devil Bringer with his coat wrapped around his arm, even though the small restaurant was practically empty. Now he was looking at Dante's plate, but he seemed… absent.

 

"What do you think?" Dante insisted, tilting his head a little, seeking the other's gaze, hoping to bring him wherever he was. Undoubtedly, some small dark corner of his mind, one of those rooms whose size is reduced and threatens you with spikes on each wall. Without answer, Dante took a bite of his hotcakes, assortment of dough and honey, and brought it to Nero's lips, as if trying to feed a foolish infant. "You want?"

 

Nero reacted then, leaning back, looking at Dante as if he had grown a second head and with color creeping into his face.

 

Dante smiled, wide and considering his rescue a success, he recovered his morsel and chewed, going back to inquire Nero, this time with a simple gesture, raising an eyebrow and raising his hands.

 

"What was ...? Pff ..., "Nero clicked his tongue, taking his cutlery and cutting the first bite of his own plate. "I guess we have no other choice. Something else will come to mind ... for the moment, maybe you have a point. "

 

"It's done, then," Dante finished, after a gulp of juice and a glance at Nero's slightly colored face, who in turn gave him a small exasperated pout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any comments? 
> 
>  
> 
> See ya next week!


End file.
